Train
by Writer is Ninja
Summary: A friend helps Ariadne cope. "You are waiting on a train…" Fem!Harry.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Harry Potter does not belong to me. Copyright infringement is not intended.

A/N:

**Warning:** I have mild dyslexia and dyscalculia. There may be small grammatical errors and large mathematical ones.

Summary: A friend helps Ariadne cope. "You are waiting on a train…" Fem!Harry.

_Train_

* * *

"Even when you win, sometimes you lose." – _What Dreams May Come_

Juniper Marie Evans is the type of friend that will come pick you up at four in the morning when you're drunk. She isn't an architecture student; no, she's here for the great psychology courses the college offers. But that perhaps makes her an even _better _friend; she _understands_. She gets how a hangover or a breakup can feel like the end of the world, how a dark past can shape you, how even a _good_ past can make you feel lacking. Juniper gets the darkness and she gets the light, and she likes both equally.

They get together on Tuesdays and Thursdays to work on things for their general courses and just chat. It's that little bistro every time, and books and papers are usually spread across the table. Not today, apparently. Apparently today is just talk. Juniper just watches her staring blankly at her dissertation for a while, taking only the quietest sips of her coffee. She hates tea. Odd, for a Brit.

If Ariadne were ever to tell anyone, it would be Juniper. But she can't.

"Even when you win, sometimes you lose," she murmured unthinkingly.

"And sometimes you just don't know you've won," June counters.

Ariadne's head shot up.

"What?"

"You've only lost because you haven't stepped into the light yet, Ariadne. I don't know what this job did to you, but it's equally bad and good. You're a dreamer, Aria, but now you're somehow a dreamer in a deeper sense. And it's done you good, but it's done you a disservice as well. There's a thin line between dreams and reality and you've crossed it, but if you can fight your way back – well, _then_ you've won."

"What do you –?"

"There are worlds within this one that you could only imagine once you've stepped in them, Ariadne," she said with dark awe. "I've seen some of them. And you know, _people_ are still the same in any of them. That's why you're not all here with me; you can't look past those worlds and see the _people_ yet. But you will."

"How do you know?" Because sometimes, June just _knows_ things.

"_I_ did," she smiled. "Let me tell you something about myself, Ariadne, something you wouldn't know; I grew up in a cupboard. If lying alone in the dark every night doesn't make you dream big, nothing will. And then I got a letter, a letter that led to sights and hopes beyond my imaginings. And at first I was awed by the majesty.

"It's not until you've walked the alleys that you've seen the truth in Paris." She dropped money on the table, kissed Ariadne's cheek and got up. "You know where to find me, luv. I'll see you again Thursday."

She watched people all day. She walked the alleys that night, seeing the dirt and poverty and _reality_. Reality wasn't always beautiful; sometimes it was just getting by and hoping for better. It took a while to remember that. But that wasn't what June had meant; she'd meant that, while glorious on the surface, there was a deeper level of darkness to _everything_. Dreams were beautiful, but they were _dreams_, Ariadne realized. They were only beautiful while they lasted. And the job itself wasn't beautiful; it was a business.

Maybe reality was _supposed_ to be hard.

"Amazing work, Ariadne," Professor Miles smiled.

"Thank you Professor."

* * *

"You're getting better," June smiled.

"Really?" Ariadne asked hopefully.

When an invitation for a dinner party came from Saito, Ariadne graciously declined.

"You're not waiting on a train to wake you up anymore. You're doing it yourself."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Harry Potter does not belong to me. Copyright infringement is not intended.

A/N:

**Warning:** I have mild dyslexia and dyscalculia. There may be small grammatical errors and large mathematical ones.

Summary: A friend helps Ariadne cope. "You are waiting on a train…" Fem!Harry.

_Train

* * *

_____________

"You're taking a job again, aren't you?" June asked after they both got their degrees. The two were waiting on the others to be finished so that they could leave. "That man in the suit, he handed you another job offer. Well, slipped it in your pocket."

"You _saw_ that?" Ariadne asked in amazement.

"I used to steal food," June shrugged. "It's not that hard to spot once you know what to look for, and I didn't _always _have money."

She'd implied that she was poor until she'd inherited.

Maybe one day she'd tell Ariadne that her relatives just didn't feed her sometimes – and never normal portions. But now isn't the time.

"I think you're grounded enough in reality, now, to do it if you want. Just keep in touch with myself and Miles. We keep you grounded better than any bishop ever could."

At Ariadne's widened eyes, June nodded.

"Yes, I've seen that. I use something myself."

* * *

"If you had to get into the mind of a rape victim without them being a client, gain their trust, what would you do?" Ariadne asked.

"Find the bastard and kill him in front of them," she answered easily. "I'm not exactly lacking in contacts and money, Aria, but I'd do it myself; there'd just be a clean-up crew afterwards. And a bag so that they could throw up, just in case, of course.

"Hell, to be honest, this wouldn't be the first time I've killed a man. Can I help?"

"I don't think so," Ariadne said wide-eyed in surprise.

June nodded firmly.

"Whoever you're spying on or stealing from, make it good. Let them torture him if they want. I don't abide by rapists, Ariadne."

She implied that she'd killed a rapist. While she _had _killed a few, Lord Voldemort didn't take people to his bed. Not even Bellatrix, the psychotic bitch.

Walden McNair got what he deserved. As did Avery.

* * *

"I go to you for advice so much that I should just pay you," Ariadne said over the phone.

"So give me a Franc for every call," Juniper shrugged. You could hear that even over the phone. "That way we have doctor-patient confidentiality contracts. Not that we don't already; we've sort of established that I'm a murderer and you're a thief or spy or some sort."

Ariadne laughed.

"We have, haven't we? Is this phone safe to talk about this over?"

"Untraceable," June assured. "I've made some enemies in my time. And you really don't want to know, so I'll just leave it at that."

"Okay, so I'm lacking a little inspiration one of my models."

"Try a castle. Old secret passages, trick steps, portraits with hidden doors; that sort of thing. I've always liked castles." Until Hogwarts was ruined.

"Thanks. I'll send you that Franc," Ariadne laughed.

"Try a speakeasy next, or stuff from that American Underground Railroad."

"Thanks," Ariadne smiled.

"Hey, it's my job to help."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Harry Potter does not belong to me. Copyright infringement is not intended.

A/N: My opinion on politics. Feel free to disagree; just don't review me on it.

**Warning:** I have mild dyslexia and dyscalculia. There may be small grammatical errors and large mathematical ones.

Summary: A friend helps Ariadne cope. "You are waiting on a train…" Fem!Harry.

_Train_

* * *

"So, I just took a waltz through a warzone."

"I won't ask where," June said seriously. "Is the death bothering you?"

"More the blood," Ariadne admitted. "I've never been afraid of blood, but _that_…"

"A little too close to home on how easily we can lose it, eh?"

"Exactly!" Ariadne exclaimed. "How do you…?"

"I've killed people, remember? I actually favor knives." Over wands. "It's not that hard to slit a throat; it's another thing to see it gush. Yes, I know the feeling; no, I can't really help you. But I can take your mind off it. I'm going to Vienna for two weeks. Meet you there for my vacation?"

"Thank you, June," Ariadne breathed. "I know how much you value your space and vacation time. That would be great."

"No problem."

* * *

"Hold on; I can't talk here." There were moments of silence. "Okay," Juniper breathed. "Sorry about that; I was in a café."

"No problem. So, what's up?"

"Other than an old enemy now dead? Nothing. I'm being the upright, morally conscious psychiatrist."

"Morally conscious," Ariadne giggled.

"Yes," June chuckled. "You?"

"Oh, shot a man in Reno; you know the deal."

"I love that song. Americans come up with the best music," June smiled. "So, this is a friend's thing and not a psychiatrist thing?"

"Friends thing," Ariadne assured.

* * *

"I just came across one of those worlds…. Magic," she choked.

"Wizards or sorcerers or other?" June asked casually.

"Sorcerers. There's _more_?"

"Oh yes, plenty," June said simply. "You said sorcerers. Africa?"

"Yes."

"Okay, let me explain things…."

* * *

"Magic in China," she half demanded information.

"Be careful of the soul-stealers; carry a good luck charm, a _real_ one – actually I'll send you one. Three, for extra luck; it's a power number. Where in China?"

* * *

"So, how are you? Any tough patients?"

"Well there's a girl who saw her father murdered; that's all I can tell you on that one. Except that she's six."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. She'll probably be a patient for the rest of her life. Anyway, have you looked at the Financial Times? My God America's going down the drain. It's that Bush Jr., I swear. He's ruining their economy trying to separate people into just the rich and poor with no middleclass, and dragging the world economy down with him. Good investments in drug companies, though, nowadays. _My_ salary just got padded."

"You're still taking on some free patients, though?"

"Of course. My bank account is in the quadruple digits and my family's Old Money; why would I worry about it? You should use Gringotts, by the way; they're discrete."

"I'll take that into account. Their main clientele is wizards, right?"

"Right you are. They outlasted a war, though. How are things on your end?"

* * *

My opinion on politics. Feel free to disagree; just don't review me on it.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Harry Potter does not belong to me. Copyright infringement is not intended.

A/N:

**Warning:** I have mild dyslexia and dyscalculia. There may be small grammatical errors and large mathematical ones.

Summary: A friend helps Ariadne cope. "You are waiting on a train…" Fem!Harry.

_Train_

* * *

"The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose." –Antonio, in _The Merchant of Venice_ (William Shakespeare)

"Are you _ever _going to date?" Ariadne asked.

"Probably not," June admitted. "Both of my old guy friends married their girlfriends, secondary school sweethearts. Nev was the only one I could ever see myself with, and even that was iffy."

"At least go to a bar," Ariadne scoffed.

"And be the lonely single, get bloody pissed and wake up in a strange bed? No thank you, Aria; tried that. I'm better at bashing men than being with them."

"And hitting them. You have a great left hook," she said rather unhelpfully.

* * *

"Okay, we've got a kid who's a headcase. She's torturing people in her mind, won't see a psychiatrist and keeps talking about it."

"Name? I'll see what I can do on my end."

* * *

"I just _literally_ shot a man in Reno."

"I'm halfway between amused and impressed," Juniper admitted.

* * *

"…Wizarding _England_," Ariadne explained.

"Well, they were in a war in '97. Don't forget that; they'll be jumpy. Read Wizards for Muggleborns, Hermione Granger. And who hired you, Draco Malfoy? I'll give him a call if you want."

"Astoria Malfoy, actually."

"Ariadne, are you talking about the _job_?" she heard.

"She knows the client. Anyway, June, that would be great."

"Good that it's Astoria; I get along better with her than Draco. Actually, send Scorpius an auntie's love."

"You were in the wizarding war, weren't you?" Ariadne asked, endlessly curious.

"Yup. Bad times, won't talk about them. Go be a wonderful whatever you are," Juniper smiled. "And have a good time, luv."

"I'll try."

* * *

Interlude:

"Wait, so you've been talking to this Juniper Evans for _years_?"

"I don't give her details, Arthur," she sighed. "She thinks I'm a spy or a thief. Hell, she's killed people, probably in that wizarding war. She's both a friend and my therapist."

"Wow; think she'd take Arthur?" Eames asked.

"Probably," Ariadne shrugged. "It's not like cold-blooded murder is a big deal to her; why would this be? She goes after rapists. But no, I haven't told her about dream-sharing. Why would I? She doesn't need to know the details."

"Fine," Arthur sighed. "And no, Eames, I am _not_ seeing a therapist."

"Maybe we should recommend Dom," Ariadne mused.

Interlude End

* * *

"So my friend is trying to profile a U.S. Senator."

"Does he have a loveless marriage?"

"Hold on; let me ask." After a minute, "Yes."

"So the wife will be bitching to her friends; that's your in. Unless your friend is a blue-eyed blonde bombshell. They both probably have affairs."

"I'm going to quote you on that."

"Good luck Aria," June laughed.

* * *

"So, we've been invited to a dinner party and my friend needs a plus one."

"Is this one of those swanky things? I'm ignoring the hope in your voice."

"Unfortunately, yes," Ariadne sighed. "But you'd get to meet my coworkers!"

"Fine," June sighed, resigned. "Date and time."

"_Thank_ you!" Ariadne squealed.

* * *

"June, this is Eames, our… profiler."

"And small time actor," Eames cut in.

"I think I recognize you," June frowned. "Bristol, Drudwen Theatre, The Merchant of Venice 'round '99?"

"Good eye, luv," Eames blinked. "Yes."

"Well, I'm Juniper Evans; call me June," she smiled. "You're a wonderful actor, I have to admit, but the rest of the cast sucked."

"Which was why I stayed small-time," Eames smirked. "Shall we?" he offered his arm.

"We shall," she took it. "Am I supposed to pretend that I don't know Ariadne?" Juniper murmured softly.

"You can catch up when we share a table," Eames assured.

For all the world, they looked like two lovers murmuring sweet nothings.

"That man? The one who's pretending to be her husband? I would have been her Maid of Honor, so I need to know his name."

"Arthur. They're going by Callahan right now."

"Thank you."

"So, darling, the music has started. Let us dance," he said more casually.

"Right you are, luv," June smiled.

* * *

"Well you're a _Devil_," she laughed as they got into the limo. "You'd cite Scripture for your purpose, I think."

"Thank you," Eames smirked.

"You _did_ make it fun," June admitted. "Listen, I don't usually do this, but here's my number, luv," she scribbled it on a small pad of paper she kept in her purse. "I'm in France if you want to look me up, otherwise stateside or Vienna. Well, Ariadne knows where to find me, really. The phone's untraceable."

"Thank you, darling," Eames blinked. "I wasn't expecting that."

"You're a fun date," she shrugged. "I wouldn't mind some sex and conversation. In that order or otherwise, really. Just try not to drag me on your jobs again, please. I hate this sort of uppity shite."

"You're not the only one," Eames commiserated, sighing.

"And tell that Arthur to get rid of the stick up his arse; it's bloody annoying."

"I'll tell him you said that," Eames' lips twitched.

* * *

Interlude:

"No, Arthur, that's a _direct quote_. She actually said that."

"She _would_," Ariadne chuckled. "Though I'm actually surprised it wasn't more vulgar."

"Can't really afford to be vulgar in a dress like that, luv," Eames smirked.

Arthur sighed.

End Interlude

* * *

"I'm between jobs; we going to meet up?"

"Venice?"

"Works for me," Ariadne shrugged.

"Listen, I have a seminar in ten minutes. Call you later?" June said hurriedly.

"Sure."

* * *

"Here; I've got the perfect dress for you," June said, rifling through her closet.

It was a _large_ closet, basically for the clothes she never wore.

It was a Cinderella-style ball gown in off-white with delicate copper stitches in runic arrays. Ariadne recognized some of the runes, but not the combination.

"This is amazing. Protection?"

"And luck," June agreed.

"Well, whatever the case, it's beautiful."

"Yes, and I have something to accent it."

The jewelry box on a shelf in the closet she never used was opened.

"Oh, wow," Ariadne said softly. It was a pearl necklace and bracelet with dangling pearl earrings set in copper to match the dress.

"I had these made for a Ministry Post-War Ball that I never attended. I'm not much for that sort of thing, as you know. But they should fit _you _perfectly."

"Thank you, June," Ariadne said softly. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Show up in jeans," June smirked.


End file.
